And the wall came tumbling down

Nov. 9 is the twentieth anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. Thousands of kilometres away in Merritt, that event and all its symbolism affected residents deeply, as it did the rest of the world.

When the wall fell, I was only six-years-old. But I can remember my parents turning on the television and tuning in to witness the historic event. It was only later in my life that I learned the full significance of the Berlin Wall, and what it meant to have it erased from the map.

By coincidence, this week is also the fifty-third anniversary of the Hungarian Revolution. On Nov. 4, Soviet troops entered Hungary to end the revolution against the Soviet Union. Thousands of people were killed, and approximately 200,000 people fled the country during a brief window of opportunity.

Fleeing from tyranny was a common theme for the latter half of the twentieth century. Thoughout the Cold War, a steady trickle of refugees fled the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Bloc, seeking the freedom of the west. Many of these people have since returned home, but just as many have since integrated into the west.

As the memory of oppression in eastern Europe fades, it is important for us to recognize anniversaries like the fall of the Berlin Wall. The ecstatic joy experienced in those final days of the wall’s existence must be remembered because they stand in stark contrast to the hopelessness that existed beforehand.

The Soviet Union and communism were once considered to be monolithic and almost impervious to weakening. Ronald Reagan’s speechwriter Anthony Dolan coined the term ‘evil empire’ for the Soviet Union, which resonated with most westerners, who lived in fear of a possible nuclear war with the communist nations. My generation in particular forgets the frightening mystery of the Kremlin that was pervasive in the west before the early 1990s.

Some of my grandparents retain much of what seems to be an irrational fear of the Russians, but a brief study of the world they grew up in clarifies the causes of this fear.

My grandfather once related a story to me that helped to illustrate the world in which my elders grew up. After his shift at the Cominco smelter in Trail, B.C., my grandfather joined a small crowd of curious onlookers in front of a television store downtown. Watching the black and white images through the glass display of the store, my grandfather said he felt a great deal of shock and fear.

It was 1957 and Sputnik 1 had just been launched by the Soviet Union. Sputnik was the first artificial satellite to be launched in the world and to the minds of Americans and Canadians it represented an achievement of technological superiority over the west by the Soviets.

Even on the eve of the fall of the Soviet Union, many in the west continued to believe that this ‘evil empire’ was strong and healthy. Little was known about the inner turmoil and poverty that was causing such discord in the east.

Today, an increasing amount of young people have no recollection of the Cold War. While we have laboured to teach our children about the sacrifices and history of the two World Wars, we have neglected by-and-large to pass on the memory of terror, suspicion and fear that the Cold War precipitated, nor have we done much to remember the unspoken millions who suffered and died under the false banner of the ‘proletariate revolution’.

This week, as we correctly remember those who gave their lives to earn us freedom, we should also remember those who lost their freedom and were forced to live in a police state for decades.

And we should continue to remember those who endure tyranny today in North Korea, Burma, Zimbabwe and other places.

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